Fort Laramie, Part III

EMM & HARMONY

April 22, 2018.

Fort Laramie, WY

Our last stop was the Cavalry Barracks that was once home to hundreds of soldiers during the Indian Wars. Built in 1974, this is Fort Laramie's largest building and another supernatural staple. It's been said that early in the morning, at what would be the call of Reveille, the footsteps of hundreds of soldiers can be heard on the boardwalk as they prepare for muster.

The cavalry barracks are quite separate from the rest, perhaps this was simply due to logistics...maybe it had to do with rank. Whatever the reason, one can't help but feel a sense of isolation when stepping into the barracks.The heavy door creaked open to reveal a plain, brown staircase that opened up to the second floor. Peering to the left we saw that

the bottom floor was a wide-open space, currently being used for storage and blocked off by a wall of plexiglass. Although records show that this floor was to be a kitchen and mess hall, there is no evidence of such. No tables on display, no stoves, just row after row of partitions and boxes. Half of the cavalry barracks, just like all the other quarters on post, is blocked from visitors.

As well as feeling isolated, we felt extremely cramped. We had little choice but to go upstairs.

The second floor was incredible. Displayed exactly

as if soldiers had just left it that morning, rows of military beds, some with boots still underneath them, lined the walls. A row of small tables down the center of the room supported artifacts of daily activities such as reading, players checkers and small stubs of smoked cigars. Although it was easy to see that the soldiers had made this as much like home as possible, it was still a sad and lonely place.

Encased within a plexiglass cage, we were unable to explore more than a few feet in either direction. We had to do our best with what space we had and began trying to sense through the glass. Within moments, it flooded us, first Harmony then me. We were surrounded.

The feeling of being watched is an incredibly unnerving one, the feeling of being watched by a room full of spirits is downright terrifying. It was as if the glass cage had put us on display for them to see, to ogle at. They didn't move much, if at all. Whether seated or standing, they stayed put. Harmony moved to touch the glass in front of her, "Can you show me a sign? Let me know you're here?". She wasn't aware that she had been staring at the same empty bed for the last several minutes, "J, can you talk to me?". Harmony turned around and her eyes met mine, "He's standing right in front of me."

She turned around once more, hands on the glass. What happened in those next few moments, I will never know. Harmony just stood there, what seemed like forever, both hands pressed upon the glass, head bowed. This person, J, stood on the opposite side of the glass, copying her. She eventually stepped away, telling me that the vision she had was of a man wearing a long blue duster. He wore a hat, not a military one though, perhaps one meant for casual occasions? She told me that he held a rifle in his arms.

She paused a moment now, took a breath and moved to the next spot. Now she stood directly in front of the row of tables and after a quick second, told me that some were seated at the tables, craning their necks to get a view of us. I sensed the exact same thing, a feeling of curiosity. They wondered if we could actually see them, feel them, or in some other way know they were there. The curiosity faded fast however, and they once again returned to the same somber mood.

Imagine for a moment, this being your daily existence. Every morning you jump awake to the sound the trumpet call, rush to get your uniform and boots on. You hustle down a small set of stairs along with hundreds of others, eventually making it to breakfast, the same old boring faces watching you eat the same old boring food. Your day goes on just as it had the day before and the day before that. You miss your family, your friends, your home, your bed. You sit at the same small table at the foot of your bed, continuing the same game of checkers you'd been playing for months. Then it's time for lights out and on a small, uncomfortable mattress you lay awake dreaming of the day that this will all be over. Only it never ends, not even at the end of your life. You wake up to the same trumpet, every day, for the rest of eternity.

We graciously thanked the all the gentlemen residing at the Fort Laramie Cavalry Barracks, payed our respects, and left.